


All I Want For Christmas

by jagnikjen



Series: The Chronicles of Blake Moran [1]
Category: Madam Secretary
Genre: Blake has a hot hockey boyfriend, Christmas Party, Coming Out, Hockey, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 08:50:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8395261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jagnikjen/pseuds/jagnikjen
Summary: Blake has a secret boyfriend and he's tired of not being able to act like most other couples in the world. They rarely go out, because, well, personal assistant to a high ranking government official and a professional sports figure...both men. Unfortunately that imagery still doesn’t play well in the media.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was shocked by how little fan fic there is for Madam Secretary in general and for Blake Moran specifically. I had to rectify that. We know so little about Blake and his personal life, and while I get that one piece of info during an episode could blow my world out of the water, Blake deserves some love and a life outside the State Department. So. Yeah.
> 
> These characters do not belong to me. I'm just borrowing them to have a little fun.
> 
> The mature rating is for nudity and mentions of erections; no intimate acts are really described, although you know where things are going.

Blake drops his keys in the blue bowl on the long table inside the door. Over coat in the closet. Scarf on the hook. He sniffs the air…a spicy tomato-based sauce, squash, bell peppers, mushrooms. “Oliver, I’m—”

The creamy white envelope catches his attention. He’s very familiar with those envelopes. He’d addressed a dozen of them himself. He plucks the envelope from where it’s propped against the lamp on the other end of the narrow table and runs a thumb lightly across the also-familiar scrawl.

“Hey, babe,” says Oliver, coming around the corner and pressing a kiss to Blake’s temple.

Blake leans into it. The scent of thyme and sage wafts from Oliver’s person.

“You hungry? Oh, hey, weren’t those the same invitations you were addressing last week?”

“Mmm,” is all Blake says. Obviously the Secretary has decided to invite the staff to her holiday gathering. To invite him... which is flattering and satisfying and terrifying and disappointing, because he wants to regretfully decline.

“Dinner in ten,” says Oliver with a squeeze of Blake’s shoulder. 

Blake pulls a letter opener from the small drawer and slits open the fold. The vellum is soft under his fingertips as he opens the invitation. He knows what the burgundy engraved text says, but his eyes are drawn immediately to the hand-written note on the inside flap.

_Blake, you’ve been an invaluable asset from the start. I couldn’t have done it without you. Henry and I would love it if you would join us for some holiday cheer. Please feel free to bring a guest. Elizabeth McCord_

Blake sets the invitation down and shuffles into the kitchen and slides into the bar chair. “Smells delicious.” Not only is Oliver a professional hockey player, he’s an amazing cook. A plate of beautifully-sauced bow tie pasta and tiny shrimp with sautéed veggies on the side is set before him. A glass of white wine follows.

Blake peers up into Oliver’s big tropical-lagoon-blue eyes. “I...” He bites back the millionth rendition of _I-don’t-know-what-I-did-to-deserve-the-attentions-of-a-god-like-you_ and says, “Thank you,” instead. He’s still not sure how he landed a professional athlete. A hockey player no less, but here he is, and he’s never been happier. Oliver has expressed his discomfort with Blake’s lack of acknowledgement that he’s a desirable man. So Blake’s been working on accepting that an Adonis like Oliver Linna finds him attractive and interesting and worthy enough to fall in love with. It’s been a year and Blake still wants to pinch himself sometimes.

“So were you invited to your boss’s soirée?” Oliver asks, taking a sip of what Blake discovers upon his own taste is a Grenache Blanc. 

“I was...we were,” he says. They rarely go out, because, well, personal assistant to a high ranking government official and a professional sports figure...both men. Unfortunately that imagery still doesn’t play well in the media. Not in D.C. And Oliver has more to lose than Blake. So they don’t go out in D.C.

Blake’s kept his private life absolutely private. Not only to protect Oliver, but the Secretary as well. He knows the rest of the staff speculates about him. None of them are shy about sharing their own personal lives, and Blake has never said a word. Part of it is that the State Department is his work place, and part of it that his and Oliver’s relationship is sacrosanct and to be protected at all costs. He can’t help but wish, however, that they could be a normal couple sometimes.

“Are you going to go? You should, you know,” Oliver says before Blake can respond. “You should go. You deserve to go socialize with your co-workers.”

Blake sighs. It’s a voluntary event, he knows. The Secretary made it quite clear that it wasn’t any sort of official party. The names and addresses he’d legibly scrawled on the envelopes weren’t those of dignitaries or elected officials. They were the McCords’ inner circle of friends.

Blake and a guest were being invited inside. He was surprised and honored. But going without Oliver felt all kinds of wrong. It was Christmas for goodness sakes. Their second Christmas together. Last year Blake had booked them a suite at the Mandarin Oriental, and they’d spent the better part of three days in bed.

This year, Blake wants something a little more traditional. “I hate going without you.”

Oliver’s large hand wraps around his, the textured callouses rubbing on Blake’s wrist and raising goose bumps up his arm. “I know, babe. Hiding won’t be forever. I promise.”

“This looks great,” Blake says brightly, looking at his plate. It tastes great too, and they eat in silence for a few minutes.

It’s not like they didn’t have a discussion before they became official. Several discussions, in fact. They are on the same page. Blake guards his own privacy zealously, so this is just another one of those things. But it suddenly feels different. Oliver has more to lose and Blake doesn’t feel right asking for a change in the status quo. He pushes the urge down and focuses on his meal and on his boyfriend. Who’s cooked him a delicious meal.

“We’ve got a three-game road trip,” Oliver says. “We leave tomorrow morning. We’ll be back on Tuesday. Let’s do something that Wednesday.”

Blake nods, because of course, barring world catastrophes, he wants to spend time with Oliver. “I’ll plan something.”

“Okay, good…” Oliver launches into news from his family back in Finland and the meal ends companionably. “Go shower, change while I clean up here.” 

There’s not much left but the dishes they ate off of because Oliver cleans as he cooks. Blake nods.

“Hey, I’m sorry.”

Blake blinks, surprised. “What for?”

“Making you go back in the closet.”

Blake snorts and offers a smile. It’s tired and strained and they both know it, but it’s genuine. “I’m not in the closet, I’m scrupulously discreet.”

“Still.” Oliver kisses him again, a chaste but lingering press of lips that promises more to come. “I know you’d go out more if you were single.”

“The tradeoff is completely worth it.”

Oliver locks gazes with him and sighs, as if weighing whether he thinks it true or not, but doesn’t say anything.

“It is. I promise.” Blake pulls him close for another kiss.

His hulking six-foot-four, two-hundred-ten-pound defenseman boyfriend huffs and pushes him out of the kitchen space.

Blake finds Oliver sprawled across double bed in nothing but his boxers when he finishes his shower. Oliver takes up every inch of space too. Blake had gone with a double bed because when he’d rented the loft, it’d just been him, and space was limited. How could he have predicted he’d fall in love with the Incredible Hulk?

Oliver scoots over and pats the bed beside him. “Kultsi, come.”

Blake stretches out along Oliver’s side. His heart beats beneath Blake’s ear, and his arm, bulgy in all the right ways, pulls Blake close. Blake traces the fading bruising to Oliver’s ribs. He follows the outline of his abs and the definition along his hips. Oliver’s got an outie surrounded by smattering of dark hair that disappears into his underwear.

“I’m going to miss you…” Oliver whispers. Slightly chapped lips nibble their way from Blake’s mouth to the curve of his shoulder, and his dick gets interested rather quickly. Oliver’s always been a generous and sweet lover.

Oliver’s blue eyes are hooded and blown and Blake reaches back to turn off the bedside light. Only the light from the street lamps illuminates the room, casting blue tinted stripes across the ceiling.

They kiss deep and hungry, and Oliver gently manhandles Blake until he’s laying flush along his front, their erections aligned. Blake’s moan fills the air between them. 

“Show me, Oliver. Show me how much…”

And Oliver does.

~*~*~

Blake has received and noted all RSVPs for the McCords’ holiday party. All except his own. Oliver continues to encourage him to go whenever they speak or text. The party is a week away and he needs to send the attendance numbers to the caterer. 

With a sigh, he ticks a _one_ next to his name. Who is he kidding? He’s going. He can’t not go. The Secretary invited him with a personal note, and it would be ungrateful for him not to show up. He calls the caterer, padding the number by five as instructed by Dr. McCord. The McCords have a teenaged son, and Dr. McCord mentioned that one of their friends eats like a bird.

The knowledge of his beloved-but-secret boyfriend who he can’t attend the party with weighs on Blake. Way more than it should. He just…it’s just not fair.

His phone chimes and a smile appears immediately. Oliver has a special text alert tone. One he shares with the Secretary. They’re the only two Blake drops everything for. Unfortunately, the Secretary takes precedence over Oliver, but Oliver understands it’s a matter of national security if Blake gets a middle of the night phone call. Thankfully, that’s only happened twice when they’ve been together.

 _Did you RSVP?_ Oliver asks.

 _I did. I don’t want to go without you._ Blake texts back, some of his good humor fading.

_I know. Love you. See you soon._

He carefully closes out of his messaging app and locks his phone. Oliver has games every other day between now and the party. Blake has no idea if they’ll be able to see each other this next week. With a sigh, he turns back to his reports. He’s lived with a hockey schedule for the better part of a year now, and usually it’s a good thing, considering his own unpredictable schedule. Oliver and he had both understood going in that their relationship was going to be unusual and challenging.

And right now, Blake was definitely feeling challenged. He has to get over it though. He certainly doesn’t want to ruin the McCords’ party or his and Oliver’s Christmas plan with his unreasonable attitude.

~*~*~

He arrives home early-evening the day of the party to find a charcoal gray suit that doesn’t belong to him hanging on the closet door and Oliver in his shower. His heart does a loop-de-loop and he strips as quickly as he can, leaving his clothing in a pile, and drums his fingers on the door to alert Oliver to his presence.

“I’ve been waiting for you. Come on,” says Oliver on a laugh. The shower’s a tight fit with Oliver’s shoulders taking up a large amount of space, but Blake can’t bring himself to care.

After a kiss that steams up the room far more thickly than the lukewarm water, Blake asks, “What are you doing here?”

“We have a party to attend.”

Blake steps back, hissing at the cold glass hitting his back and butt, hair sliding down his forehead and dripping water in his eyes. He rakes it back with impatient fingers. “I don’t understand.”

“I spoke with my agent, I spoke with PR, I spoke with management, I spoke with the coaches. I love you, Blake, and I don’t want us to hide anymore.”

Blake’s brain whirs as Oliver speaks. Blake can barely parse Oliver’s meaning, because of the roaring in his ears. He spoke to people? People who were important people. Key people in his career. Wait. What?

“Wait. Slow down. What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I want to come out. Am coming out. Have come out a little bit. And if you still want to take me to your boss’s party, I’d very much like to go.”

Oliver wants to go to the party as his date.

Blake’s throat constricts, and his pulse thrums in his veins. He’s in the shower and his palms are sweating. God, this is crazy. It’s what he wanted, but now dragging Oliver into bed and not letting him leave seems like a much better plan. “Who knows?” he asks.

“Well, management, coaches, and a few guys on the team.”

Blake is overwhelmed and happy and just a wee bit upset.

“Of course, I want to take you, but why didn’t you talk to me about it? I know it’s a personal decision and it’s your call, but I thought we were a team.” At Oliver’s raised eyebrow, he adds, “Of-of sorts.”

“We are, Blake, really. I just wanted to surprise you. It wouldn’t have been much of a surprise if we’d had a conversation first.”

“I…yeah.” Blake grins. He takes a breath. It’s what he wanted. Oliver had weighed the risks and made a decision for _them_. And Blake’s taking his boyfriend to a party. To meet his boss and his co-workers. Oh, shit. His face must betray his panic because Oliver laughs and plops a bath sponge in his hand.

“Come on, babe. Wash. The water’s almost too cold, even for you.”

Oliver gets out and leaves Blake to it.

~*~*~

The taxi gets them to the check point at the end of the block. The air is crisp and clear, and their exhalations are visible. 

Blake’s eyebrows rise when they are both cleared to proceed and issued passes to get through the Secret Service at the house. He’d been prepared to call the Secretary for last minute clearance.

“How did you get yourself on the list?” Blake asks.

“I’ll tell you when we get there.”

Blake’s hand trembles only slightly when he presses the doorbell. He wanted to bring Oliver. To share holiday cheer and festivities with his love. And now, here they were, and he’s nervous. He shouldn’t be, but he is. It’s not his parents. It’s almost worse.

For courage, he slips his gloved fingers through Oliver’s as the door swings open. “Blake, hello,” says Dr. McCord, smiling. “Come in, come in.”

They shake hands. Traditional holiday scents of pine and cookies and peppermint hit Blake and he relaxes just slightly. Right. This is a friendly gathering. And even if he’s teased, it’ll be of the good natured variety. He knows this.

“Dr. McCord—”

“Henry, please.”

Blake nods. “Henry, this is Oliver—”

“Oliver Linna, oh my God,” says the Secretary, joining them. “Blake,” she says, giving him a hug, eyes going wide, “is this your guest?”

“Elizabeth, can we let these men get out of their coats.”

“You follow hockey?” Oliver asks.

Blake lets out a surreptitious breath. Neither of the McCords had batted an eyelash that his guest is male and that’s…well, that’s a relief.

“Yes, ma’am,” says Blake, handing his coat into Henry’s hands with a nod. “Oliver and I…” He wants to say it. They’re boyfriends, they’re partners, they’re whatever it is they are. But they hadn’t discussed it and now he’s not sure what Oliver’s preference is. They’d talked about hockey on the way over.

“We’re boyfriends, ma’am,” says Oliver. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

Well, okay. They’re boyfriends. Blake’s not sure he likes the term, although they are nothing more than that at the moment. ‘Partners’ intimates something serious and long term. And they’re not quite there yet. Close, Blake thinks, but not there yet.

“You’re from Finland, right?” asks the Secretary.

Oliver nods, and Blake wonders how does she know this?

“How long have you lived here in the States? Your English is fantastic.”

“For seven years, ma’am. My sisters and I learned English as children. Hockey and the NHL was the plan since I was little, so…”

“Oh, really? That’s interesting. And how long have you known Blake?”

“About three years now.”

She looks in surprise at Blake, and his stomach sinks. They’re going to have a conversation at some point. “That’s, well…that’s not so surprising.” She smiles kindly. “Blake’s been mum.”

“We’ve only been seeing each other a year, and, you know, hockey.”

“Oh, of course,” she says with a sympathetic expression.

The doorbell rings again and her eyes glance at the door. Blake’s rarely been so glad for a reprieve.

“Well, Oliver, it was so nice to meet you. Blake, I’m so glad the two of you could make it. We’ll chat more later, all right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Go find a drink guys,” says Dr. McCord before sweeping his hand along the Secretary’s back and escorting her to the door.

The house is warm and instrumental jazz Christmas music drifts beneath the chatter and laughter. Daisy, Matt, Oliver and Nadine stand in a cluster at the other end of the first floor. Daisy sees him, smiles, and raises a hand.

And here we go. Blake nods and heads that direction, Oliver, at his back, takes his hand. “It’s going to be fine,” murmurs Oliver. Blake nods. It’s what he wanted. Wants. To share this with Oliver. To be a couple. Now he is, and it’s a bit more nerve-wracking than he expected, despite being out his whole life. Or, um, scrupulously discreet.

Daisy’s gaze shifts and Blake sees the realization hit her. A soft smile creases her face. Her expression reads _God, he’s hot._ and not _Oh my God you’re gay._ Blake relaxes.

“Merry Christmas, Blake,” she says.

Nadine’s eyes light up when she sees them. “You must be Oliver. I’m Nadine Tolliver,” she says and chuckles as she holds out a hand.

Oliver’s hand engulfs hers. “Yes, ma’am. Nice to meet you. And thanks for your help.”

So that’s how he got on the list.

“My pleasure,” Nadine says. “Close your mouth, Matt.”

“Oliver, this is the Secretary’s core staff. Daisy Grant, press coordinator. Matt Mahoney, speechwriter. And you apparently know Nadine, the Secretary’s Chief of Staff.” Everyone exchanges handshakes.

Oliver chuckles. “We’ve just spoken on the phone. Ms. Tolliver was kind enough to put my name on the clearance list.”

“This is my…” Blake looks into Oliver eyes. Oliver nods. “…boyfriend, Oliver Linna. He’s a defenseman for the Capitals.”

Matt snaps his fingers and looks suitably awed. “That’s why you’re familiar.” Matt turns big eyes to Blake. “You’re dating a _hockey player_?”

“Um. Yes.” Blake grins. He’s dating a hot hockey player. He’s shared this part of himself with the people he’s become closest to. And the world hasn’t come to an end.

**Author's Note:**

> "Kultsi" is a Finnish expression for "honey" or "babe".
> 
> Also, before you berate me for the idiom about eating like a bird, birds actually eat a lot.  
> https://jaysnatureblog.wordpress.com/2015/01/23/eat-like-a-bird-not-what-you-might-think/  
> http://www.mythbusters.com/common-myths-about-birds.html


End file.
